Disbanded
by TotalPotato
Summary: How would you feel if you had given up everything in your life to follow a cause, only for that cause to disband just as you thought you were about to reach your goal? One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon, so don't sue me, please!

Author note: I don't really write that often. I just had an idea and decided that I wanted to write something about it. If I have other ideas, I'll be sure to write about them, but I don't really think I have the dedication to sustain anything longer than a one-shot. Nonetheless, I'd love some reviews so that I can improve on any stories I might write in the future!

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**Disbanded**

My pockets were empty again. It was time to go. I stood up, and headed straight for the exit. Before I left, I briefly scanned the building around me. The garishly bright lights and cheerful sounds drew all sorts of people here. Some came to relax. Others came to win. I came to forget.

The Veilstone Game Corner was a world apart from my drab hotel room. It was also a reminder of happier times... or at least, times in which I had a purpose. I struggled against my thoughts, forbidding my mind to drift. It wasn't getting any easier to forget, but I had to try, if only to preserve what was left of my sanity.

The outdoors smelled strongly of fresh rain. I didn't look up, but I felt warmth on my back. A crisp, sunny spell after heavy rain would invigorate most people, so I tried my best to feel energized. I started walking briskly, not really sure where I was going. All I could see beneath my feet was an endless sheet of stone – practical, imposing and unbreakable. Just like my old boss...

I stopped, shaking my head. Perhaps staying in Veilstone hadn't been a good idea. It had been a home to me for so long. Even though I didn't really have a home any more, even if it made forgetting a whole lot more difficult... I just couldn't let it go. I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. After I'd settled my mind back into a placid sea of emptiness, something caught my eye that set the storm of memories raging again.

It was my reflection in a puddle. My face wore that impassive look that had been drilled into me for as long as I could remember. It was an unremarkable face, save for one feature. The sun highlighted the bright teal colouring of my hair, and the shadows that were created emphasised the precise, helmet-like cut. It stood out in a crowd these days, but it had matched the style of almost everyone I had been in contact with for the past year or so. It was a symbol of our unity, and of our equality in our future world. The world that we had all been so confident in until Master Cyrus disappeared.

Before I saw him, I thought he was insane. I joined Team Galactic more out of desperation than anything else, hoping against hope that it would offer some way out of a lifetime of being looked down on. Master Cyrus's ideas sounded ridiculous, but at the same time, enchanting. By the time I had listened to him speak, I had been inspired. The world we lived in now was too imperfect, too full of prejudice and disrespect to set right. It was far easier to start anew, with a group of people who all felt the same way: that everybody deserved respect, and nobody deserved disdain. There had still been some part of me that was sceptical – after all, it was such an ambitious plan. But as soon as Master Cyrus had set things in motion, we all knew he was serious. It was almost unbelievable how realistic his approach was to such an outlandish plan. How could any of us fail to believe in a man like that?

Then, just when we could practically touch the earth of the promised world we had all strived for, Master Cyrus had vanished.

I had turned my back on this world. I had truly believed that I would have the chance to start my life afresh. But as soon as our master disappeared, these dreams disappeared along with him. I looked around angrily at the world I was left in. It was hostile and empty – people had probably retreated indoors due to the earlier rainstorm. The fact that I was in the middle of a small park, the one green area in Veilstone, did nothing to lift my spirits. Trees, stone... what did the scenery matter in a world with so many flaws? There was no life to be seen, save for a blue, insect-like Pokémon with spindly legs uselessly pushing against an acorn-like Pokémon at the base of a tree. I shook my head at the pathetic spectacle and resumed my walk.

Nobody was sure what had happened to Master Cyrus. A few say that he froze just when he was on the verge of carrying out his plan, but our boss simply wasn't that kind of man. Others say that a giant Pokémon had been summoned at the Spear Pillar, had not taken kindly to being manipulated, and had destroyed Master Cyrus right there. But our master had seemed so sure of his plan... surely he would have taken precautions against such a possibility? A lot of people believe that the young tearaway who went around beating our commanders seemingly at leisure (the same boy who became Champion two weeks ago) had defeated Master Cyrus and forced him into hiding. I chuckled at the suggestion. The boy's voice hadn't even broken yet, and he'd only defeated me because of the Grunt-level Pokémon I had been assigned.

It didn't matter, though. Charon had come from nowhere and had usurped Master Cyrus's position, completely reshaping Team Galactic overnight. Unlike our boss, he had no plan to form a peaceful world which accepted us all equally. I still don't understand why he even joined Team Galactic if empty, materialistic things were all he was after. It sickened me that Team Galactic had become some sort of oversized gangster mob. That was when I left. My life at this point consisted merely of a routine of going to the Game Corner until I'd had enough. It was preferable to seeing the cause in which I'd invested so much hope crumple around me.

That was enough. I had dwelled on the past for more than enough time today. Looking up, I groaned. I was back in that spot in the park again, having walked in one big circle. And still, the Surskit I'd seen earlier was pushing hopelessly against that same Seedot. Looking closer, I saw that the Seedot was shivering despite the warm weather. It was possible that it had been knocked off the tree by the storm. But it didn't concern me. Pokémon were mere tools, existing for our convenience alone. I turned away, preparing for the walk back to my hotel room.

Suddenly, an intense glow bathed the periphery of my vision in white light. My head jerked back towards the tree in time to see a glowing form of energy changing shape next to the Seedot. Spindly legs contracted into short, diamond-shaped appendages. The tip of a head lengthened, and symmetrical semicircles appeared out of nowhere, both coloured in that same radiant white. Suddenly, the light faded, and I realised that I was looking at a Pokémon hovering above the ground.

"Krain!" it shouted. With incredible deftness, the Pokémon lifted the Seedot onto its back. Flapping its tiny wings frantically, it slowly rose up off the ground. Higher and higher it climbed, until it reached a branch. Seedot latched on like a magnet, and the shivering immediately stopped. Masquerain gently drifted to the ground, where it lay there, exhausted.

Its eye-like antennae would have repulsed most people, but my heart was strangely filled with warmth. It was a feeling I had not witnessed in a very long time. That Pokémon, whose earlier efforts had seemed so pointless, had found a way to achieve its goal through sheer force of will. An image of the child who was now Champion appeared in my mind, followed swiftly by one of Cyrus. So different in so many ways, but both had wanted to change lives, and had against the odds, found a way. Questions flew unbidden into my mind: why had the Commanders distinguished themselves if we were meant to be equal? Why did Cyrus climb to the Spear Pillar alone if we were all to be a part of the new world? And if a common Pokémon had been able to shape someone's destiny, was there any reason that I couldn't do likewise? I was shocked at these questions – partly at my gall in questioning Team Galactic's order, and partly that I'd never even considered asking them before.

I ran my fingers through my hair, no longer seeing it as a symbol of familial unity, but as a cruel measure to stifle any individuality I may once have had. I strode off full of purpose. For the first time in years, I had a mission that wasn't fuelled by desperation, and that wasn't drilled into me by a superior.

I was going to find a way to get this damned dye out.


End file.
